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May 6, 2006
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May 6, 2006
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Becca and I went to Knoxville this weekend to attend a Wedding. We had planned on going up on Saturday morning, returning on Sunday. But our mutual friend Q was flying in from Out West, and needed a ride toward Knoxville. Her Mama could drive her from the airport to Monteagle, if my wife and I could drive her the rest of the way to K-town. We could. She came up Friday night, saw my show at the Bear Hollow Jamboree, then (after shopping and packing and other dawdling) we departed for Knoxville.
Q had made reservations at the Holiday Inn Select for Friday and Saturday nights, but we had only made plans for Saturday. As we drew near town around 11:30 (12:30 EST), road-weary from the trip, RB said, "Hey you guys don't need to go get a room for tonight, you can just crash in my room. I'll take the floor and let you guys have the bed."
After a few minutes reflection on that, as we rolled into the parking lot, she decided that she would ask for a room with two beds. And that's what she got. So we crashed in Q's room. And we saw that the room was good, and there was evening and there was morning the first day.
The next day, after sleeping in late, watching Saturday morning PBS cartoons, eating Dunkin' Donuts, working out in the Hotel Fitness Room, swimming in the Hotel Pool, and soaking in the Hotel Hot Tub, we made our way to the Maple Grove Inn, the Bed & Breakfast where the Wedding was to be held. My wife and Q were 'honorary bridesmaids', so they needed to be there three hours before the ceremony for instructions, pictures, etc.
I didn't need to be there that early, so I dropped the ladies off, and went to go check in at the Knoxville Travelodge, at which my Wonderful Wife had made us reservations. Confirmation number, credit card, and directions in hand, I set out. Q's hotel was really nice, but a little privacy would also be nice after the wedding reception. Maybe the romance of the Happy Couple's Exchange Of Vows would rub off on us, and Becca and I would feel a little romantic ourselves.
Thinking thoughts like this, I realized I must have missed the hotel, because I was past the point (near the interstate) where any reasonable businessman would put a hotel, and heading off into the Boonies. I turned around, drove back past the Truck Stop, and the Porn Shop next door, and across the overpass to the other side of the interstate, and didn't see our hotel there either. Once again over the overpass, looking hard for any sign of a Travelodge Hotel, I found it. There was a little-bitty sign for the Travelodge under a great big sign for the...
Truck Stop.
Yes. Our hotel was part of the truck stop. At The "Front Desk", you could request fresh towels for your room, as well as buy lottery tickets, cigarettes, a can of Fix-a-flat, and a Slurpee. And right down the hall, you could get your CB radio repaired, or visit the men's restroom, where you could get the phone numbers of a half-dozen men whose only problem with Brokeback Mountain was that "They edited out most of the really hot parts". Oh, and did I mention the Adult Video Superstore across the street? Lovely.
But, Wait, It Gets Worse! We not only were in the worst hotel in the city, we were in the worst ROOM in the worst hotel in the city. The mascot for travelodge hotels is "Sleepy Bear", a cute lil' teddy bear who looks a lot like Shoney Bear, from the Shoney's restaurants, except that he wears an old- fashioned Nightcap and Sleeping Gown, and his eyes are only halfway open. Becca apparently picked "The Sleepy Bear Room" on purpose, because it was supposed to come with a microwave and a minifridge. It didn't come with those amenities, but it did come with Sleepy Bear. On every... surface... in... the... room!!
20-somethings; Remember the Gremlins/Rainbow Brite/Star Wars blanket you had on your bed in the 80's? Substitute Sleepy Bear for Chewbacca, and you get an idea of how godawfully ugly the decor in this room was. The stupid bear looked drowsily at you from both small beds, the curtains, several framed prints, and every $@*#!%; lampshade in the room! This was not a room that encouraged romance; this was a room that encouraged losing consciousness as quickly as possible, waking early, packing your stuff, and fleeing.
My wife never gets to book the hotel again. Ever.
*************************************Q had made reservations at the Holiday Inn Select for Friday and Saturday nights, but we had only made plans for Saturday. As we drew near town around 11:30 (12:30 EST), road-weary from the trip, RB said, "Hey you guys don't need to go get a room for tonight, you can just crash in my room. I'll take the floor and let you guys have the bed."
After a few minutes reflection on that, as we rolled into the parking lot, she decided that she would ask for a room with two beds. And that's what she got. So we crashed in Q's room. And we saw that the room was good, and there was evening and there was morning the first day.
The next day, after sleeping in late, watching Saturday morning PBS cartoons, eating Dunkin' Donuts, working out in the Hotel Fitness Room, swimming in the Hotel Pool, and soaking in the Hotel Hot Tub, we made our way to the Maple Grove Inn, the Bed & Breakfast where the Wedding was to be held. My wife and Q were 'honorary bridesmaids', so they needed to be there three hours before the ceremony for instructions, pictures, etc.
I didn't need to be there that early, so I dropped the ladies off, and went to go check in at the Knoxville Travelodge, at which my Wonderful Wife had made us reservations. Confirmation number, credit card, and directions in hand, I set out. Q's hotel was really nice, but a little privacy would also be nice after the wedding reception. Maybe the romance of the Happy Couple's Exchange Of Vows would rub off on us, and Becca and I would feel a little romantic ourselves.
Thinking thoughts like this, I realized I must have missed the hotel, because I was past the point (near the interstate) where any reasonable businessman would put a hotel, and heading off into the Boonies. I turned around, drove back past the Truck Stop, and the Porn Shop next door, and across the overpass to the other side of the interstate, and didn't see our hotel there either. Once again over the overpass, looking hard for any sign of a Travelodge Hotel, I found it. There was a little-bitty sign for the Travelodge under a great big sign for the...
Truck Stop.
Yes. Our hotel was part of the truck stop. At The "Front Desk", you could request fresh towels for your room, as well as buy lottery tickets, cigarettes, a can of Fix-a-flat, and a Slurpee. And right down the hall, you could get your CB radio repaired, or visit the men's restroom, where you could get the phone numbers of a half-dozen men whose only problem with Brokeback Mountain was that "They edited out most of the really hot parts". Oh, and did I mention the Adult Video Superstore across the street? Lovely.
But, Wait, It Gets Worse! We not only were in the worst hotel in the city, we were in the worst ROOM in the worst hotel in the city. The mascot for travelodge hotels is "Sleepy Bear", a cute lil' teddy bear who looks a lot like Shoney Bear, from the Shoney's restaurants, except that he wears an old- fashioned Nightcap and Sleeping Gown, and his eyes are only halfway open. Becca apparently picked "The Sleepy Bear Room" on purpose, because it was supposed to come with a microwave and a minifridge. It didn't come with those amenities, but it did come with Sleepy Bear. On every... surface... in... the... room!!
20-somethings; Remember the Gremlins/Rainbow Brite/Star Wars blanket you had on your bed in the 80's? Substitute Sleepy Bear for Chewbacca, and you get an idea of how godawfully ugly the decor in this room was. The stupid bear looked drowsily at you from both small beds, the curtains, several framed prints, and every $@*#!%; lampshade in the room! This was not a room that encouraged romance; this was a room that encouraged losing consciousness as quickly as possible, waking early, packing your stuff, and fleeing.
My wife never gets to book the hotel again. Ever.
We can now add my inlaws to the people who don't get to pick. Grandmother Carter and/or Jenny Murphy can pick though. They pick good hotels.
1 comment:
Oh, Come ON, Phrank! Where would good stories come from if you didn't have a few adventures? Also, I will remind you that YOU also had a say in picking that hotel! Also, did you bother to ask that guy if he had any sleeping pills? We all could have used some - your favorite mom in law
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